


Flint for Mayor

by sunflow_rs



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Football, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Football, I don't know much about politics or football but here you go, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Protests
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-09-08 04:02:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20304091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflow_rs/pseuds/sunflow_rs
Summary: Marcus is the son of one of the candidates running for mayor. One of Cygnus Flint’s campaign promises is to replace the football field with a hotel in order to increase tourism and profits.Oliver Wood’s best friend Percy Weasley is also running for mayor, however due to his young age most believe that Flint will win. In opposition of the field being replaced and against Flint being mayor, Wood organises a protest.





	1. The Protest

Marcus watched his father standing behind the podium in his impeccably tailored suit and stiff tie. He felt some pride at seeing him give a speech, but this pride was interrupted by a person asking the bartender for the remote. The screen on which his father spoke flickered, before changing channels. 

“Don’t want to listen to that political garbage.” The man who had changed channels laughed. “Especially Flint. I mean, did you hear about his plans for the football field?”

Frowning, Marcus wondered what the stranger was talking about. “No. I didn’t hear about them.”

“He wants to replace the local field for a hotel. ‘Increase tourism and the region’s economy’ or some shite.”

Marcus gaped. Hesitant and unwilling to believe the stranger, he checked his phone and sure enough, Google confirmed it. 

“Well that’s bloody typical.” It was just like his father to overlook his only son’s passion for football in favour of increasing his chance at becoming mayor. Football was what Marcus lived and breathed; without the field he had no clue what he would do. 

Sighing, he looked down into his glass and swirled the amber liquid around before draining it. His father knew that he loved football, but that wasn’t important. It never had been. Since Marcus was a child the only careers that Cygnus Flint had encouraged were those with high success rates and impressive earnings. Once he had started high school, Marcus’ father had realised that his son’s low grades would not lead him to being a lawyer or accountant. Football was all it seemed that Marcus was good at, but Cygnus still ignored it. Being athletic wouldn’t ensure a good job. 

His thoughts becoming angry, Marcus slammed the empty glass on the bar and pushed his chair back. When he was angry he needed an outlet and football provided that. Hailing a cab, Marcus paid the driver to take him to the field. If it was going to be replaced with a hotel then he might as well make the most of it. 

It was that train of thought that had caused Oliver Wood to also venture to the football field. He repeatedly kicked the ball around, the exercise keeping his body warm in the cool evening. He hoped more than ever that Flint wouldn’t be elected. Oliver’s best friend, Percy, was also campaigning for mayor. Despite his young age of 25, Oliver knew that Percy had more political experience than Flint and supported better policies that would bring positive change to the region. Hopefully voters would recognise that. 

Oliver jogged over to the football and half-heartedly gave it a kick. He heard a thump and a curse as it hit someone in the darkening light. Oliver immediately ran towards the sound, feeling bad for the unexpected victim. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realise anyone else was here so late.”

Marcus scowled, picking up the ball and throwing it back to the man. The hoodie the stranger was wearing advertised ‘Vote Weasley’ in an outrageous red. Marcus couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the naivety of supporting such a young candidate. 

Oliver noticed the gesture and frowned, looking down at his hoodie. Scottish accent dripping with sarcasm he spoke. “Oh and I suppose you’re supporting someone so much better?” 

Marcus guffawed. “Like Cygnus Flint?”

“Since you actually know his first name, then yes.” Oliver was starting to become agitated with the man. 

“He’s my father so yeah, I know his first name.” Marcus smirked at the look of pure horror on the man’s face. 

“I think I owe you a second apology. I didn’t expect Flint’s son to be... on a football field.” Oliver was really thinking of how Cygnus’ son could be so handsome, but he stopped himself from saying it just in time. 

Marcus’ expression grew sour again. “I didn’t find out about that until a few minutes ago. I’m about as pissed as I’m willing to bet you are.”

“I’m quite pissed.”

“Well I’m more pissed then.”

Oliver laughed, shoving a hand into his pocket. The cold was starting to get to him now that he had stopped moving. “I’m Oliver Wood.”

“Marcus.”

“Well Marcus, d’you like football?” Oliver directed his eyes to the football resting against his shoe. 

And that’s how the two strangers began a highly competitive game at 9 pm. Marcus was a superb player, expertly weaving around Oliver and dribbling the ball. Oliver was a perfect match, being a great goal keeper and stopping the majority of Marcus’ attempts to score. 

“I’m curious,” Oliver said to Marcus some time after their game. They had gone to a small midnight espresso cafe and were nursing coffees, glad to be out of the cold. Somehow both reluctant to part from each other’s company. “Why does a man promise to replace a football field when he has a son such as yourself?”

“I’ve been trying to figure that one out.” Marcus replied, eyes flickering to Oliver’s hands that were distractedly fiddling with a sugar packet. 

“Maybe you can figure this one out. How does the son of a mayoral candidate and the best friend of his the opposing candidate have a civil conversation?” Oliver smiled, sipping his drink and leaning back in the chair. There was something about Marcus’ quiet yet aggressive personality that intrigued him. 

“Weasley’s your best friend?”

“Since high school.” Oliver responded. “Despite what you may think based upon his age, he’d be a great mayor and I’m not just saying that because I’m on his promotions team or his best friend.”

Marcus laughed. “I don’t believe you’re not biased, but I’m willing to bite. Why do you think he’d be so great?”

“Why don’t you come to our offices tomorrow and ask him?” Oliver smirked, finishing his coffee and leaning back in his chair.

“Now that would piss off my father.”

“Precisely.”

-

The elections came and went, and after an encounter with his father that left a bruise beneath his ribs, Marcus tried (to no avail) to forget about the late night field encounter with Oliver Wood. As the public had expected, and much to Marcus’ chagrin, his father was elected as Mayor.

For the sake of expenses and to help with campaigning, Marcus had still lived at home. However this election had only brought out the worst in Cygnus’ parenting, so Marcus packed his bags and began renting a flat across from the field he so loved. The field that was under development for a hotel.

\- 

“Marcus.” Oliver was shocked, and his face betrayed it. “It’s been a while, I thought you’d forgotten we existed”

“I was busy.” Marcus shrugged nonchalantly. Truthfully, Marcus had been trying to reach out to contacts to begin a sporting career but as soon as they heard he was Cygnus’ son they dismissed him. None of them wanted the son of a Mayor who was destroying a football field for the sake of tourism. 

“Percy, meet Marcus Flint.” Oliver gestured between Marcus and a well-presented young man, who looked as if he had been ironed and not just his spotless suit.

“A pleasure.” Percy said warmly, giving Marcus a strong handshake. “Did you want to talk in my office?”

It wasn’t intended as a meeting, but it certainly panned out that way, and at the end of it Marcus’ political opinion had been shifted even more. He also had an invitation to a protest against the hotel replacing the field.

“Can I tell Oliver to look forward to seeing you there?” Percy asked, smirking.

Marcus, confused at the insinuation but not displeased by it, nodded. “Yes, yeah you can.”

-

“You know, you’re a man of surprises.” Oliver appeared at Marcus’ side, passing him a banner to hold.

“Yeah well, I try my best.” Marcus laughed. His laugh didn’t do a good job at disguising his terror, especially when he was such a visible figure in the town now and this was a highly publicised event.

Marcus held open the banner and tried to forget about his father, and just picture a faceless man who wanted to tear apart his passion. His stomach hurt from a newly formed bruise and he grimaced.

“Hey, I think it’s pretty commendable that you’re doing this.” Oliver said, noticing Marcus’ discomfort. He followed the other protestors down the street towards the field, and Marcus walked in step beside him.

He swallowed his thanks. “After the protest do you want to go to mine? It’s close by to the field.”

Oliver turned his head and smiled warmly, his teeth gleaming in the sun and lighting up his face. “That would be nice.”

With that, Marcus and Oliver joined the crowd whose anger carried them through the many chants and marching. Even when the television crew found Marcus amongst the protestors, he continued forward; “Listen to the public, not your tourism!”

Cygnus would no doubt see his son on the news, but Marcus no longer cared. He had left his father’s good books a while ago; this wouldn’t be the first or last time he did something to cause more displeasure. Besides, he liked spending time with Oliver and this protest was a good excuse to invite the man over to his flat and get to know him more.

-

Oliver looked around the small and bare flat, secretly quite pleased that Marcus seemed to be picking up his hints and had invited him over. Boxes lined one wall and tape still sealed some of them, indicating that the man had recently moved in.

“Would you like a drink or anything?” Marcus asked from the kitchen, turning the kettle on. 

“Only if you’re having something.” Oliver responded, before Marcus accidentally walked into him as he left the kitchen. Automatically Oliver’s hands went around the man’s waist, and getting no indication to move them, he brought himself closer.

Marcus’ breath was in his throat and he pushed a strand of Oliver’s hair from his face, and leaned forward. His eyes flickered between Oliver’s eyes and his lips, until they shut on their own accord as they kissed. Rough lips moving together and in sync, his stomach full of butterflies. _Finally_.


	2. The Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies in advance... Let me know your thoughts and your hopes for the next chapter! Also sorry about how dialogue-heavy this chapter is :)

Marcus hadn’t expected the kiss, or any of what followed. But Oliver’s chapped lips on his own eventually led to their frenzied undressing, and waking up the next morning wrapped up in the man’s naked tanned arms. Marcus was hardly complaining. 

“Good morning,” Oliver grinned lazily. 

Marcus grunted and rolled out of bed, throwing a pair of sweatpants on. “Coffee?”

“Please.”

Marcus seemed nonchalant on the exterior as he flicked the switch on the kettle and found his instant powder in a cupboard. However, on the inside he was worried that any little thing he did might screw something up with Oliver. Or that them screwing had already screwed it up.

“Sorry, I’ve only got instant coffee. Plunger fine?” Marcus asked, suddenly aware of the fancy coffee machines that Oliver would be used to in his office.

“Plunger is good.” Oliver smiled, appearing from Marcus’ room wearing only one of Marcus’ football t-shirts and boxers.

The kettle finished boiling almost at the exact moment the doorbell rang, throwing Marcus out of his stupor of staring at Oliver in his shirt (which he found extremely hot).

“Mugs are in the cupboard by the fridge, sugar should be in the pantry if you want some.” Marcus said, before heading to the front door. It was only as he was reaching to unlock the latch that he realised he was still shirtless and no doubt covered in hickeys, but at this point it was too late.

Cygnus Flint stood on the other side of the door, his feet planted firmly on the welcome mat, although he certainly wasn’t welcome. Marcus hadn’t spoken to him in weeks; most likely not since he had moved out. Why his father was standing, thundering, at his flat now was beyond him. Then the events of the previous day reappeared in his mind; the protest previously having been forgotten due to the excitement with Oliver.

“Son. May I come in.” It wasn’t a question, but Marcus took it as one. His father seemed to be ignoring his current state in favour for getting straight to the point; he was good at that.

“Now’s not really a good time.” Marcus said firmly, unmoving. If his father saw Oliver and realised that the hickeys were the result of a man…

Cygnus tugged on his goatee, agitated. “Do you know what you’ve done to me? And you can’t even spare me a few minutes to greet me in your new home.”

Marcus stayed silent, but couldn’t continue to maintain eye contact with his father’s direct and harsh gaze.

“Public television showed footage of you at that protest yesterday, Marcus. Thousands of people saw my son marching against me and my policies!” Cygnus’ voice raised slightly. “This could destroy all I’ve worked for!”

“What about what I’ve worked for?” Marcus retorted, still painfully aware that Oliver was somewhere in his flat hearing this conversation. “What about my football and how all of this affects me! Everything I do has to be about you doesn’t it.”

Marcus barely had time to see the hand raised before it was hitting him across the face. He flinched back, but the skin was already reddening from the impact.

“We need to discuss this further. Son, you need to understand that you’re being selfish. I am the Mayor and your actions relay back to me. This protesting against me and this backchatting - I won’t have it! Let me inside.” Cygnus stroked the back of his knuckles, before pushing past his son.

Oliver had been, unintentionally and with growing concern, eavesdropping from the kitchen. As soon as he heard this, he rushed into Marcus’ bedroom, closing the door silently behind him.

“Look, son.” Cygnus started. “I get that you’re trying to act out, get me to notice you- ”

“That’s not what’s ha-”

“- but this is just immature.” Cygnus continued speaking as if Marcus hadn’t tried to interrupt. “You’ve always had foolish dreams, but I thought you were through with those when you moved out and became more independent. You need to quit revolving your life around football, and begin to focus on what’s important. I can get you a job in my office, if you just get your act together. Stop sleeping around for an instance.”

“Sleeping around?” Marcus laughed. There were so many things wrong with his father’s one-sided conversation that he clung onto the last sentence. The one part that Cygnus actually had some shred of evidence for.

“Yes Marcus. You’re practically naked and there are two mugs by the sink.” Cygnus smirked. “You can’t hide anything from me. Who was the girl? Probably Percy Weasley’s younger sister if you’re continuing on this unjustified train of revenge against me.”

Marcus was thoroughly lost amongst his father’s wild accusations and ideas. “What? Where is all this coming from? You forget about my existence for all 25 years of my life, and now that I’ve done something that adds more controversy to your public image you want me to ‘get my act together’? You don’t give a shit about me, just yourself.”

“Marcus Cygnus Nigellus Flint, I will not tolerate you speaking to me like this.” And there was another hit, this time right to his ribs. Cygnus had forgotten before about making the abuse invisible; his anger had overcome him.

“I don’t want whatever shitty office job you’ll assign me, I don’t want your preachings about how selfish or ambitious I am, or how unattainable football is. Just… get out!” Marcus’ adrenaline was pulsing, and he could no longer feel the pain his father was inflicting. 

Cygnus threw another punch, and his fist was raised to hit his son again but he was interrupted.

“You’re so desperate for your public image to remain untainted, and no wonder if this is what your private life looks like.” Oliver’s voice was strong, unwavering and protective. “Marcus told you to leave, so leave.”

“You’re a fag too?” Cygnus stared at his son, his face overcome by disgust and not just rage. “And Oliver Wood, nonetheless? Percy Weasley’s little lapdog?”

“Leave, or I will be forced to call the cops.” Oliver’s voice was cold, and the insults didn’t seem to have any effect. 

Cygnus said nothing more, just glanced at his son slumped on the ground with dried blood coming from his nose and at Oliver Wood with a cellphone in hand, and left.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!! Please leave kudos and comments and I may continue this as a series!


End file.
